Still Doll
by fukuji mihoko
Summary: In a distant kakera unknown to even voyager witches, Yasu is replaced with a sickly young child who doesn't even know her own name. Is it possible for such an unloved girl to have a happy ending? :Battler x Clair:
1. Prologue

**Still Doll  
><strong>Prologue

* * *

><p>"She's not Beatrice! She's <em>not<em> her!"

Kinzo snarled the words with an almost animalistic rage. He hardly even looked human anymore; eyes narrowed into two slits, lips pulled back in a scream and his whole body trembling with anger. The chalice of sickly green absinthe shook in his hands, threatening to spill upon the moth-eaten carpet, but Kinzo didn't care.

He was past caring.

"Kinzo, you shouldn't work yourself up into such a state," said Nanjo, his face filled with concern. "Despite your strong will, your condition is rather frail, and-"

"_Frail_?" Kinzo's lips curled into a smirk; a dreadful grin splitting across his face like those carved into Halloween pumpkins. "I assure you, I am not frail; in body, perhaps, but mind…? Never! I cannot allow myself to die- I **cannot**- until I have seen my beloved Beatrice one more time! I need to apologize; _I must_! But how can I? That child is not Beatrice!"

Kinzo's face contorted into something demonic; something so truly hideous worry even flickered across Genji's usually blank countenance.

"Lord Kinzo, please," Kumasawa implored, wringing her veined hands together in despair, "do not speak of her like that- for, no matter what you say, she _is _your child, and she-"

"She is **not**; and I rather think you've overstepped the mark there, Kumasawa Chiyo! How can she be my child when she looks nothing like the mother? _Her_ hair was blonde and beautiful, her eyes bright blue- but this child, this… creature; she is hideous!"

"B-but Lord Kinzo-"

"_Silence_!"

Kinzo's voice echoed about him; ten, twenty Kinzos all denouncing the young girl- his own baby- as a _creature_ in a discordant harmony. Or maybe there was no echo at all- Kinzo's words so steeped with loathing they to reverberate inside everyone's heads long after they had escaped his lips.

The sound of falling rain filled the musty study. It drummed against the windowpanes like thousands of hands desperate to push their way through the glass.

Cold, wet, pale hands of the witch; the witch of the forest.

Beatrice.

But Beatrice had never been a witch, had she? She had been a lonely girl imprisoned in a gilt cage; trapped within the confines of luxury, with pretty clothes and beautiful hair, and a lifetime of nothingness stretching out before her. Kumsawa could remember how she used to sit with the young lady and plait her hair, or serve her tea, or read her books- and Beatrice's face with flush happily at the attention, as the pair under the white arbour in the beautiful rose garden…

But Beatrice had only been happy with such a lifestyle for so long.

When a bird in a cage learnt about the outside world it wanted to explore and share its song with others- maybe even learn a few new tunes to sing.

Kinzo refused to let that happen- and the beautiful young girl (Beatrice's 'reincarnation', with the same golden hair, bright blue eyes and slightly prideful sneer) had died. Her brains had been dashed on the rocks by the beach, seagulls picking at her open head just like children curiously pulled at half-formed scabs.

Kumasawa had been distraught when she learnt of the terrible fate that befell her child- but there was worse, yet, to come.

Oh, if only Beatrice_ had _died. If only, this time, she had remained dead.

But a part of Beatrice still lived on.

She was still alive in the eyes of her daughter.

The daughter Kinzo refused to believe was his.

It was difficult to say where Kinzo's hatred of this young girl stemmed from, and nobody- perhaps not even Kinzo himself- fully understood his feelings. Perhaps Kinzo could not bear to look upon the baby Beatrice's pale face for guilt and pity over how she had been conceived; or maybe he was upset because, save her bright blue eyes, this Beatrice did not look at all like Bice, like Beato, had done.

The little girl should have looked like Beatrice and yet she did not.

She was a disappointment.

A _failure._

The proud face of Beatrice stared at Kinzo from the wall of his study; red lips pursed slightly, hair gold as flax, wearing the elaborately ornate dress so fitting for a witch who had stolen Kinzo's heart.

As bolt of lightening struck outside, making the windowpanes rattle, shards of light cut across the face of the elegant woman, making her seem other worldly; enchanting.

Ethereal.

If one stared at Beatrice's exquisite portrait for long enough they could almost imagine her smoky lashes flickering; fingers trembling in her lap; lips twitching into a cruel smile.

Maybe Kinzo had stared at that portrait so long he could see nothing else but her body, preserved forever, alive inside the canvas.

"Beatrice! Oh, Beatrice! Why have you deserted me? Is this my punishment?" Kinzo cried, hysterical tones almost swallowed by the gale outside. "Have you have removed yourself in flesh from the world because of my sins? You have taken my child away through dark magic; replaced my golden haired, blue eyed baby girl with an unlovable monster! Beatrice, oh, Beatrice!"

A demented cry burst forth from Kinzo's throat, mixing with the sound of falling rain and crashing thunder. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

The woman in the portrait did not move, and yet…

In the darkness, it almost looked as though she was smirking.

"Beatrice! Oh, Beatriceeee! How can I ever apologize to you if you have erased yourself from the world? Am I to be stuck with this guilt forever? Beatrice- answer me! Beatriceeee!"

There was another crack of thunder, louder than before.

If one strained their ears, perhaps it was not so improbable to imagine high pitched, feminine laughter dancing madly through the night air.

* * *

><p>The hidden mansion of Kuwadorian was a small slice of fine architecture and beautifully furbished rooms tucked away in a small corner of Rokkenjima. The mansion was surrounded by tall, skinny trees and tall, wrought iron gates, just like something from a fairytale.<p>

It was the palace of Sleeping Beauty, a princess awaiting the kiss of her true love…

Or it was the, at first so charming and quaint, gingerbread cottage of the evil witch.

Ghosts haunted the picturesque mansion; vague memories of another young woman called Beatrice taking tea in the dining room, curling up with a book on the inwardly jutting sill of a window or sleeping, golden hair fanning out across her pillow, in her four poster bed.

A young baby was sleeping in the cradle where, almost twenty years ago, a similar child with flaxen hair had slept- blissfully unaware that, to her father, she was the Golden Witch reborn.

This young baby, however, was no witch.

She was thin and sickly, her skin pale and stretched so that her delicate veins could be seen threading though her arms.

She didn't have a past or a future, or even a name of her own. She was truly alone- yet the young girl did not know this. How could she? She slept peacefully, fingers curling against the blanket Kumasawa had stitched twenty years ago for another little lady, oblivious to the noises of the storm lashing out fitfully outside her window.

"What shall we do with the poor girl?" Kumasawa asked, wringing her hands together. "We can't keep her on the island, can we?"

"But where else would she go?" asked Nanjo. "She's too frail to be moved elsewhere in her current condition. I fear a sudden disruption during the early stages of her life could have a negative impact on her health."

"But if she remains on this island, in Kuwadorian, I fear what Lord Kinzo will do to her! He hates the poor girl; anybody can see that. He refuses, even, to give her a name of her own!"

"True… I can't help but worry for her safety, but I don't know what can be done."

"The Master would not hurt the child."

Kumasawa and Nanjo both turned to look at Genji with some surprise.

"I realize you trust Lord Kinzo, Genji," said Kumasawa, "but surely you haven't forgotten what happened to the former Lady Beatrice? It would be a tragedy if such a thing were to happen again!"

"I have not forgotten. Indeed, I was… worried… the child would look too much like her mother. That would be a real cause for alarm. But her appearance is different from the Lady's." Genji paused before continuing; almost as if he were made of clockwork and needed to be wound up once more. It was rare he spoke so much. "I believe the Master will take little interest in this child despite his earlier outburst. It seems to me that he wants to forget she exists; and what better way to forget her than keeping her separated from everybody else in here?"

That way, they could all pretend the young child did not exist.

"Genji! That's horrible; too horrible! The child would have no life here! It would be better, far better, if we took her elsewhere!"

"But where would we take her?"

"The Fukuin orphanage- they would be happy to accept her! She can start a new life there."

Nanjo coughed softly.

"I'm sorry, Kumasawa… I realize how much you care for the child, but as a doctor… She's far too sick to leave Kuwadorian. If she were healthier, of course that would be the preferred course of action- but I fear moving her from this mansion would equate to robbing her of whatever small chance she has to remain alive."

"It would be a poor life, though, to be trapped in this mansion with no mother or father; no name, no past, no present, no love or no hope!"

"She would have love," said Genji, inscrutable expression faltering slightly as he looked upon the sleeping girl. "I cannot promise she will have a good life… but we must do our best to ensure it is satisfactory."

"You can care for the child, surely. You have done it once before," said Nanjo. "And I will always be here when you are in need of my medical expertise. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let a child of my greatest friend die, regardless of whether he wants her or not."

"But this is different! That was then and this is now, and… ooh…" Kumasawa sobbed openly, drying her eyes with her sleeves. "Poor child! Poor, poor child! I shudder to think of her future!"

"As do I," said Genji. "But we must do our best. That is our duty as furniture. We shall give the child everything she wants, and try to make her happy."

"Yes. Everything she wants." Kumasawa smiled bitterly. "Everything, except a real life."

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Haha, this was kind of difficult to write- especially as it focuses on the 'boring' characters nobody likes (y u not like Kumasawa and Genji? I think they're pretty epic XD)  
>Um, yes, this story is a vaguely AU one in which the child conceived by Kinzo &amp; Kuwadorian Beatrice was not YasuLion/Beatorrriche but Clair. I figure it fits, given Clair only exists as a pale imitation of Beatrice in ep7- which would work with this situation, given Kinzo wanted her to be more like Kuwadorian Beato and she isn't.  
>Written because I srsly want to write some adorable Battler x Clair, Clair needs more love, and it would be interesting to see how the story of Umineko would change if Yasu had not been born XD<br>I hope you enjoy it & please excuse my ramblings ^_^;;

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	2. Chapter One

**Still Doll  
><strong>Chapter One

* * *

><p>"Lady Beatrice, your hair is growing so long! You're becoming quite the looker; and only at the tender young age of thirteen. Ufufu- I'm jealous!"<p>

Beatrice…?

Was that her name?

It was what everybody called her and, in the end, it was she called herself. Didn't that make it her 'name', then? But to Beatrice, her name did not seem like a part of herself. It was not something key in making her _her_. Instead, it was more like… a title.

A title she had no right to possess.

Kumasawa, the kindly servant who was the closet thing to a mother she had, said Beatrice was the name of the witch in the forest and she had been named after her. The witch had blonde hair and blue eyes. Beatrice knew that because a portrait of the witch had been hung up in the main hall of the mansion; a portrait so large it was impossible to avoid looking at it, even though she dearly wished she could.

She hated looking at that portrait, as much as an almost emotionless girl could hate anything.

The witch in the portrait seemed to scorn her; looking down at the young, pale-skinned child with half-lidded eyes and a barely-there smirk.

_You really think I would ever bestow my name upon a child like _you_? Ahh, that's funny, too funny- gyahahaha!_

The picture taunted Beatrice every time she saw it because it was a reminder of everything she wasn't- and everything she could never be. Beatrice could never be regal or majestic like that; not even in her dreams. She was painfully thin, her eyes were a little too large for her head, and her skin was so icy white she looked as though she had been dragged up out of the bottom of a lake.

She was the lily maid of Astolat, then, whose blood froze in her veins for a love she could never obtain.

Her father loved the woman in the portrait.

He would never love her.

Beatrice sighed whilst Kumasawa plaited her hair. Kumasawa's fingers moved swiftly, gently, despite her age, but Beatrice half wished Kumasawa would take handfuls of her pale hair and tug hard; wrenching it out her scalp- removing another reminder she would never be pretty enough to be loved.

She had never met her father.

She didn't know if she had a mother.

She only had Kumasawa and Genji, and occasionally Nanjo, whom she saw on a regular basis, given she was so ill all the time. Beatrice knew she should be grateful these people cared about her at all, given she was such a disappointment- and, even worse than that, a _thief._

But she was also selfish.

Although she had no right to possess a family, she still wanted it, desperately.

Kumasawa, Genji and Nanjo were not the same thing.

Not even close.

Families were things Beatrice had only read about in books- and she read a_ lot_ of books. There was little else to do in her golden cage. She would curl up in any comfy corner, open a book and try to immerse herself in a different world, where she could plant herself in the body and life and identity of a different person, a happier person, and pretend for perhaps two or three hours she was somebody else.

She could only pretend for so long, though- and when she returned to reality, each time it was more painful than before.

* * *

><p>"Kyahhh! I'm gonna fall, I'm gonna faaallllll!"<p>

"Then stop holding onto the handrail like that and get off the deck, you little idiot," said Rudolf, sniggering, as he caught hold of Battler from behind and roughly rubbed his hair.

"No! Don't touch me, don't touch me, or I'll definitely falllll!" Battler cried, trying to push his father away with one hand whilst the other was still clamped lightly to the rail.

"Get _**off**_ the deck then, dummy. Do I have to keep repeating myself?"

"I can't, I can't! If I let go I'll fall over the side and drown!"

"Oh, geez. My son is a coward. _My _son is a coward. You're twelve now, Battler; a big boy! You can't afford to be afraid all the time!"

Battler glared- though the look was ruined somewhat by the fact it looked like he was going to be sick.

"I'm _not _a coward!" Battler whined. "I'm notttt! I do loads of brave things; loads and loads, like… um…" He paused, thinking. Then, he scowled. "Well, I do _loads_. I just don't wanna drown! It'd be really cold and dark and then…" He shuddered. "I don't wanna!"

The sound of laughter made Battler whip his head round, hair blowing in his eyes, to shoot his 'Death Glare' at the second person who dared mock his perilous situation.

It was Aunt Eva.

"Battler, you're so cute~" she cooed, giggling. "It's okay to get scared once in a while. I mean, my George would never be so distressed, but-"

"Y-you're making fun of me!" said Battler- a little more astute than Eva had given him credit for, obviously. "If you're not afraid of drowning then you're an _idiot_, Aunt Eva!"

"Hey, didja hear that, Aunt Eva?" asked Rudolf, smirking. "You're an idiot."

"You too," was Battler's retort, stabbing a finger at his dad. "All of you, stupid, stupid, stupid… Well, I'll do something really brave when we get to the island, you see if I don't!"

"Like eating all your vegetables for a change?" Rudolf suggested. He turned to Eva with a conspiratorial wink. "Asumu has to hide all his greens on his plate or he won't eat them. Such a picky kid."

"A bit like you then, hm, little brother?"

"No, nothing like me at all! I ate all my vegetables so I could grow up into this paragon of manliness you see before you!"

"Oh? Is that so? Ufufufufu~"

"Gyahhhhh!"

Battler's charming scream cut through the adults' conversation like a gunshot. It even managed to make Rosa, who had been drifting off to sleep on the inside of the boat, jerk awake with a start.

A big wave came rushing towards the ship. It broke against the ship's bow in a huge burst of cold water.

In shock, Battler quite forgot his previous rule of holding religiously onto the handrail. His fingers turned slack from horror- and, with another scream, he was thrown backwards-

_Thump._

-and his behind unceremoniously hit the floor.

"Ahhh! I really _**am**_ going to fall!"

Rudolf sighed, reaching forwards to help his son up. Meanwhile, Eva giggled behind her folding fan, trying to stifle her laughter in an elegant fashion- and failing quite miserably.

"What was this about being brave, you little squirt?"

"S-shut up!"

* * *

><p>The sun beat down on Beatrice's back relentlessly; rays of sunlight seeming to pierce through her skin like needles trailing golden thread. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, long skirts rustling. Her head was bowed like a snowdrop's- the strength of the sunlight pushing it down- as loose strands of hair coiled against the tabletop.<p>

The sky overhead was a beautiful blue, studded with white, lazily drifting clouds that hovered along like balls of cotton. The roses in the garden, mixed with other brightly colored flowers Beatrice could not quite name even after studying various books on botany (gardenias, hyacinths, morning glories…?), smelled so sweet it was almost overpowering; a heady perfume that made her feel weak. Honeysuckle climbed about the white arbour, loose fronds shifting gently in the breeze.

She was surrounded by so much beauty, but she could no longer see it.

It did not matter how beautiful her cage was; it remained a prison, roses or no. How many times had she dreamed of venturing into the outside world, only for her plans to be destroyed- her lines of reasoning thin, fleeting, gossamer like spider webs- mere moments before they drifted into her mind?

Forests surrounded her home; tall trees that jutted into the sky, as though attempting to poke a hole in the air and drain all that bright blue away. Even in her bedroom, tucked up safe and warm with her wonky stuffed animals Kumasawa had sewn, Beatrice could hear the faint cheep of cicadas and hoot of the owls in the forest. At other times she imagined she could hear the snarling of wolves…

Or the mad laughter of a witch.

The witch of Rokkenjma ruled the night, resplendent in her ornate dress that made no sound when even whilst she walked across fallen branches and dead leaves. She would be smoking her pipe, a cruel smile playing about her lips, and any living creature she saw, she would plunge into a world of misery for her own amusement.

Beatrice dared not go outside. The witch was waiting- and the witch of Kumasawa's stories was far more fearsome than the wolves. Even during the day the witch could be waiting, feather light and almost formless as a single golden butterfly, searching for any insolent children she could endlessly torture

Beatrice could not leave her prison.

Instead, she could only sit and dream empty dreams she no longer had any faith in, built upon hopes she did not have.

She was… worthless; truly worthless- an empty, loveless creature who could not believe in the magic of miracles. The only 'magic' she could believe in was that which would do her harm.

And yet… did she not sit and wish for her freedom? Did it even matter if she was hurt? She was so cold, so empty, that she cared little for her own safety. If she was braver she would have left her beautiful prison through a gap in the wrought iron fence a long time ago; living her life as a human being, just for once, and allowing herself to see new sights and new sounds…

But the thought of the witch always made her stop, just as her foot fell upon the world beyond her prison.

_Oh? So you're challenging me, are you? You, the worthless child who stole my good name? Well, then, come out and play~ I won't hurt you…_

_Too much~_

_Let's just see who's more deserving of my name, shall we? Gyahahahaha!~_

Beatrice shuddered. Even though so much warmth surrounded her, she felt… cold.

Kumasawa's light-hearted stories about seven young maids she had once known- tales Beatrice never tired of no matter how many times she heard them- fell upon deaf ears, as Beatrice wrapped her arms round herself and shuddered.

"Beatrice?" asked Kumasawa softly, sensing her distress, "is something the matter?"

Talking was difficult nowadays. She did it so rarely it was almost painful, exerting her vocal chords like that. Instead, she merely shook her head.

Kumasawa still looked worried.

"Well… I hate to inform you of this now, my child, but…" she sighed. "I'm afraid I shall have to leave you for the following week or so. There is business I need to attend to. Genji and Dr. Nanjo shall also be busy, I imagine, so… you would be by yourself."

Beatrice's shudders grew more pronounced. Every summer her makeshift 'family' or sorts would leave her; always around the same time, too. What business did they have to take of, exactly?

Beatrice always wondered…

When she was younger Kumasawa would still visit her during that certain week occasionally, but as time dragged on those visits dwindled out until Beatrice was left rattling about her too-large mansion by herself, just like a single pea in a pod, a lonely bird who had lost its way…

Beatrice hated being alone.

When she was by herself, with nothing to distract her save the books she had read so many times before, there was nothing to protect her from the witch.

_Aww, isn't that fun? We get to play together lots and lots, don't we, Beaatriceeeee?~ Maybe we can see what would happen if you doused your fingers in boiling water first- then we can make you sample which plants in your lovely garden are safe for human consumption~ The foxgloves look pretty tasty, don't theyyyy? Kyahahahaha!~~~_

This witch would never leave her.

Even when she was asleep she would still be there, sitting on the side of her bed; looking down at her when she slept and pressing icy fingers against her temple so her sleep was infused with the blackest of nightmares.

After all…

The witch was only an imaginary friend.

She lived inside Beatrice's own brain.


	3. Chapter Two

**Still Doll  
><strong>Chapter Two

* * *

><p>"Yes!~ Alright!"<p>

Battler breathed an exhausted sigh of relief.

He felt like an intrepid explorer who had reached the summit of Mt. Everest, or successfully scaled the barren Antarctic to find the North Pole!

…Was the North Pole in the Antarctic? Battler didn't know; he'd never paid too much attention geography.

Oh well- it didn't matter.

He'd finally made it!

He was safe at last.

Battler's whole body filled with energy at the prospect of being on beautiful, non-moving, non-vomit-inducing and incredibly _dry _land once more. Humans just weren't meant to live out at sea, after all! Boats were unnatural, just like bright blue food and haircuts.

The sky was a pleasant cornflower blue (the same color Asumu painted the bathroom, which was how Battler knew such a subtle distinction between the different shades of blue) studded with milky white clouds. The wind played through Battler's hair gently as he hopped off the side of the ship- the very first one to leave. Life suddenly seemed so beautiful he seriously considered falling to his knees and kissing the floor- though that might have been a bit much.

Kicking off his trip to Rokkenjima by eating a mouthful of dirt was not a good idea.

Minor reservations about licking the floor aside, Battler couldn't keep still, he was so fired up.

Finally, _finally_!

"Hey, Battlerrr!"

"Oh, hi, Jessie!"

Jessica grinned a wide, gap-toothed smile as she waved at her cousin. Her blonde hair was windswept, corkscrew curls fluttering about her face, even though most of it was tied back. Her eyes were wide with excitement.

Battler figured, but her slightly bedraggled appearance, she'd been waiting for the boat to arrive for a while.

That would explain why she was even more energetic than usual, jumping up and down as though she had springs fitted into the heels of her shoes.

"Battler, it's really been ages!~~"

"Yeah, ages and ages!"

"You look a little taller than before," said Jessica, holding up a hand to demonstrate Battler's increase in height. She pouted. "You used to be such a little kid! Now you're turning into a giant!"

"Ihihi. Way to give me a complex, Jessica."

Jessica rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her hips. "I bet George taught you that word. Stop trying to look smart!"

"I-I could've known it already!"

"But you didn't. Ha~ At least your hair looks the same as always."

"How?"

"Stupid."

"Well, you _always_ look stupid," Battler retorted, sticking out his tongue. "_And_ you're short and stumpy, ihihi- ow!"

Battler had quite forgotten his cousin's amazing, inhuman ability to throw bone crushing punches. That was going to leave a bruise…

If he didn't learn to sidestep around Jessica's anger carefully he was going to end up black and blue, damn it!

"Hey! That wasn't a nice, ladylike welcome!"

"Don't care~"

"Oh, right, I forgot. You're not a lady at all- you're just like a _man_."

Jessica's eyes narrowed. "W-why you-"

"Miss Jessica, please play nicely with your cousin," said Kumasawa, smiling, as she rested a hand on Jessica's shoulder. "Otherwise the witch of the forest will creep into your room when you sleep and eat you up."

"Ha!~" Jessica flipped her hair over one shoulder, her smile stretching from ear to ear. "I'm not afraid of any stupid witch! I'll just punch her in the face and see how scary she is then, hahaha!~"

"Oh my, what a headstrong child, ohoho~"

"Jessica," said George, using his 'why yes I am a reasonable adult' voice, "are you being a bully again? I'm sure your mother won't be happy to hear that."

Jessica's face turned pale.

George and Kumasawa exchanged a smile. Apparently, Jessica thought she could punch through a witch like she was made of cotton wool, but her mother was a far, _far_ more formidable foe. Maybe that was because witches generally didn't try to make their helpless victims dress up like Victorian dolls, frills and ribbons included, for family conferences. At least Jessica had escaped the indignation of being shoehorned into an unfitting dress this year; instead, she was resplendent in a more practical uniform of a formal shirt and frilly skirt.

It wasn't, Jessica had told George last year, that she hated dresses or anything. Sometimes she wanted to look pretty. She merely hated all the dresses her mother picked out for her; and they were so impractical and difficult to move in, too.

"Plus," Jessica had said sourly, "you get shouted at if you climb trees in dresses; but what's the point in wearing clothes if you can't _do _anything in them? It's stupid!"

George had laughed at Jessica's indignation. Despite her young age, she was surprisingly logical.

Maybe Jessica's simple outfit was the reason she was so happy that year.

There were smiles all round in general though, thought Battler happily as, one by one, the members of his family disembarked from the ship and began to congregate on the harbor.

Asumu- still a little green around the edges from the long boat journey- patted Jessica on the head and complimented her on her nice clothes, and the young girl practically flushed with pride. Rudolf picked Jessica up and spun her around, before setting her down when Rosa, suddenly sensitive to the natures of children given her young baby Maria, scolded him- 'you'll make her sick!' The young maids, Manon, Berune and Asune, bowed respectfully to the Ushiromiyas… but they soon proved to be even more excitable than Jessica, and happily engaged in conversation with anybody who would listen to them.

"Oh yes, the chef is preparing some tea for you," said Berune. "It'll be served up when you get to the mansion. I sampled some the other day and it was really, really delicious!~"

"Ah, is that true?" asked Hideyoshi, laughing at the young maid's enthusiasm.

"Of course!~ I'm an expert on food, you see, and I never, ever make a mistake when it comes to judging flavors! This tea would be a one hundred and one out of ten, guaranteed, or your money back!"

"I'm not paying any money- but ya make me feel like I should! Ohohoho! I should hire ya to advertise for my company; business'd go through the roof!"

"So George," said Asune coyly, smiling at the seventeen year old, "how's your love life? Do you have a special someoneeee, huhhhh?"

George's face turned light pink. "W-well, I wonder, ahaha."

Asune pouted. "You wonder? You mean there isn't?"

"I… suppose…?"

"Oh, that's such a pity! I imagined you getting engaged to some fair young lady with a vast fortune; maybe somebody foreign, like Italian or French! She could like a princess! Ooh… that would be so romantic!" Asune squealed, her eyes lighting up. "Why aren't you engaged yet? Whyyyy?~"

Eva giggled. "It's a problem I've been deliberating over for some time- but I want to find the perfect girl for my George!"

Asune pouted. "I guess so- but I'm beginning to get the feeling there isn't any romance left in the world at all! You know, just the other day Miss Natsuhi scolded me all because I was reading a romance novel!"

Eva giggled again, lighting tugging on one of Asune's pigtails. "Are you sure she wasn't scolding you because you weren't doing your job?"

"I-I always do my job! A girl can take a few moments out of her busy, busy schedule to dream a little, can't she?~"

"Manon, you're looking prettier than ever," said Rudolf, pretending to swoon when his eyes settled upon the young maid.

Manon, instead of being flustered or shocked, merely smirked. "Ahaha, you're not looking that bad yourself, old man!"

Battler and Asumu, who had been watching the light-hearted interaction, sniggered.

"Old man? Ahhh, it's always the most beautiful girls that say the cruellest of things! Manon, you _wound _me!"

"Hahaha! It's gonna be your wife that wounds_ you_ if you keep talking like this, Mr. Ushiromiya!"

"Ahh, true, true. Asumu can be pretty _damn _scary for somebody so short. Maybe we should keep this strictly to business, hm, Manon?"

"Of course. Would you like me to carry your luggage?"

"Nah- I'm a strong man. I can do it myself!" Rudolf said, winking at Manon. "You can help shift Battler's junk, though. I don't think his thin little noodle arms would be able to cope with the strain."

"Noodle arms, noodle arms, hihihihi!~" Jessica repeated, laughing.

Battler's face turned dark pink. "_Hey!_"

* * *

><p>The long, winding walk through the forest to the mansion was just as lively as the initial greetings had been. The sunlight filtered through the leaves overheard, making everything shimmer light green. For a few moments, Battler thought it was almost mystical- until he remembered he was meant to be twelve years old and, really, he didn't believe in magic or fairies, or even Kumasawa's stories about witches, <em>at all.<em>

He couldn't deny the scenery was pretty, though.

That was rare. Battler wasn't usually the type to stand around and think about nature; not when he could be pushing girls off the swings in the playground. There was something about Rokkenjima, a lonesome island few knew about (just like something from a mystery novel!), that made Battler feel slightly more thoughtful than usual; a little more appreciative of his surroundings.

The forest of Rokkenjima was so different from his usual world of grey concrete and telephone wires, all these trees and flowers and funny looking mushrooms, with the noisy seagulls cawing overheard, that it never failed to surprise him, year after year after year.

There was always something new to look at; new shells washed up on the beach, new trees to climb, new birds to see darting about in the trees.

"Ahh, it's not until I hear the sound of seagulls that I feel like I'm at home," said Eva, giggling. "They sound nice now, but they use to drive me crazy when I was a kid. It was impossible to study with all that _noise._"

"_Everything _drove you crazy," said Rudolf. "You were just like an old woman trapped in a kid's body, ihihi~ What was it Rosa and I used to call you?"

Rosa, her strange melancholy mood broken, allowed herself a small smile.

Rosa had been rather quiet the whole journey to the island, sitting by herself with her arms round baby Maria, who wasn't even one year old yet.

Maria had been interesting for all of twelve seconds, before Battler realized she didn't actually do anything other than sleep or cry, and the novelty had soon worn off. He didn't really _get _why people liked babies so much.

Funnily enough, Rosa didn't seem to like babies either. She certainly didn't dote after Maria the way Asumu had done when she first saw her.

Battler vaguely remembered Asumu had said something to him before the trip; "Aunt Rosa might be a little unhappy because Maria's dad can't visit her very often. Don't ask her about it, okay? She might get sad."

Rosa didn't look so sad now, though. Being back on Rokkenjima had lightened her face, making her look a lot younger; almost like a child again. Battler had seen old photographs of her with her hair in pigtails, hiding behind Rudolf or staring dreamily into space, and it had seemed funny then. He couldn't image Aunt Rosa ever looking like that.

Now, however, it was almost difficult to imagine Rosa as anybody but that young girl.

Rosa held Maria, wound up in a pink blanket, to her chest, but not even the deadweight of her child could dull her good mood.

"Ah, I remember... We used to have a nickname for our big sister, didn't we?" said Rosa, smiling fondly at Rudolf. "Something like... Baba Yaga?"

Kumasawa laughed. "Ohoho~ The old woman from myth who eats young children?"

Rosa laughed. "Yes! That was where it came from!"

"You'll have to keep a closer eye on Maria, Rosa," said Rudolf. "She might suddenly go missing in the night!"

"Oh my, I better tell the chef to prepare more food!" said Berune.

"Kyahh! Cannibalism on a deserted island; I'm so scared!" Asune wailed.

"It'll be just like a murder mystery," said Rudolf, nodding solemnly, though the grin did not fade from his face. "One by one the young cousins will disappear… And then the pretty young maids, too!"

"Ha~ I'm not in any danger; I'm not a child," said Manon proudly. "I'm sure about the other two, though…"

"Tell them to sleep with one eye open, then," Rudolf advised sagely.

Eva's eyes narrowed, and- in one fluid movement- she turned about, stabbing her fan between Rudolf's eyes.

"You might be a little older, Rudolf, but your big sister will _always _be able to get the better of you, ufufufufu~"

"Ya better watch out for Eva, Rudolf. Between you an me, she can pack a pretty mean punch for such a little lady! Ohoho!"

The other adults laughed. It seemed the island had a transformative effect on them, too.

It made them act just like children again.

* * *

><p>"Hahaha! I can't <em>believe <em>you fell over on your ass like that! That's _priceless_."

Battler's face flushed light pink. He turned to glare at his dad. Why did Rudolf have to tell _Jessica,_ of all people, about the... _incident _on the boat?

Actually, no, 'incident' made it sound worse, like Battler had wet himself or something- which he **hadn't**.

Jessica probably would, though, if she kept laughing.

"Jessica, that's not a very nice thing to say," said George reasonably, his voice calm. "Battler could have been hurt. You shouldn't laugh at other people when they're suffering."

"But Battler's fine now, isn't he? Haha!~ It's just so hilarious, the 'Great and Almighty Ushiromiya Batttlerrrr' being so _terrified_ of the sea!"

"T-the sea's pretty scary, _actually_, Jessica! All sorts of stuff is under there that we don't even know about, like sharks and giant squids! I saw them on a documentary!" said Battler heatedly. "A shark could tear you to pieces before you even know what's happening- don't laugh, it's _true_!"

"Uhuhu~ _I _have to go on a boat to school every day and _I'm _not scared!"

"Well, you're stupid!"

"You're stupider!"

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are!~ Hihihi~ Battler's a cowardddd!~"

"N-no I'm not!"

"Yes you are! You'd never be able to rescue a princess from a tower; you'd be too _scared_! Ahh, Asune was right; men nowadays really are useless!"

"I'm not useless, I'm not!"

Once more, it fell upon George to try and split up the small fight. The adults were too busy arguing amongst themselves; perhaps being even more childish than Battler and Jessica. George sighed a long suffering sigh.

"Hey, guys," he said calmly, "please don't argue like that- and Jessica, don't be mean to Battler. Everybody has things they're afraid of, right?"

"I-I'm _**not**_ afraid!"

"You are, you are!" Jessica shot back. "George just said you were!"

Well… that hadn't gone entirely according to plan...

George became suddenly aware that Manon, who had been talking with Eva, was trying to stifle her giggles over George's failed peace treaty. She was doing a rather poor job of it.

"Alright, _fine_," said Battler, stabbing a finger at Jessica's face. "I'll **prove** to you I'm not scared! I'll do something really, really brave and then you'll have to believe me!"

"Oh?" Jessica raised a brow. "Like what?"

"I'll... I'll... I'll..."

Battler paused; floundering like a fish on a line. He needed to do something heroic, something _amazing_, to show Jessica (_and_ that stupid old bastard Rudolf) he was really brave!

But what could he do...?

It was the incessant caw of the noisy seagulls that broke Battler's train of thought. He looked up, as though it were possible to see the birds through the thick canopy of leaves overheard-

And then he stopped.

He looked about his surroundings with thought.

And then... his eyes lit up.

Finally, he had an idea.

* * *

><p>"Woah! That sounds kind of cool!"<p>

"I know! I think it'll be fun."

"I can't believe _I _didn't think of that before, and I've lived here my whole life!"

Battler grinned. "Ihihi~ Where would you be without me, huhh? You still wouldn't have discovered the wheel!"

"Oh shut up! You didn't know how to do up your shoelaces until you were nine!"

"T-that has nothing to do with it! Let's get back to our plan, okay?"

"Whatever."

Battler, George and Jessica were sat in the guest house unpacking their clothes- or, in Jessica's case, shifting her clothes from her bedroom to a wardrobe in the guest room. Jessica had insisted she slept in the same room as he cousins. She hadn't seen them in so long and she wanted to spend as much time with them as possible; not in her boring old room. She hadn't asked her mother about it yet, but she was sure Natsuhi wouldn't mind.

Battler, unlike George and Jessica, hadn't made much headway with putting his clothes away, however. In his hurry to confide his master plan to his cousins he had quite forgotten he had any work to do.

George sighed (he seemed to be doing that a lot lately) and closed his bedside drawer, now neatly stocked with all his carefully folded shirts, with a _thump_.

"Battler, I hate to curb your enthusiasm, but I don't think that's a very good idea. There is a reason we're told not to stray from the footpaths in the forest."

"This island can't be _that_ big, right? I just want to go explore," said Battler petulantly. "And if we find that witch granny Kumasawa is always talking about then we can capture her and put her in a zoo!"

"Is that where they put witches?" asked Jessica.

Battler shrugged. "I dunno, but I saw a panda in the zoo once."

George was struggling to understand how Battler's logic grouped pandas and witches into one all-encompassing category, but Jessica had no problem with it. She was nodding.

"I could help set a trap to catch t he witch! I'd punch her in the face- look? _Master Spark_!" Jessica shouted, punching the air so violently she overbalanced and nearly fell off the bed.

Battler laughed at her.

"Ihihi, _Master Spark_? You're gonna defeat a witch by falling flat on your face?"

Jessica stuck her nose up in the air, folding her arms. "That was just a _demonstration_, you idiot! Besides, I'm not the one who falls over all the time- that's you! You and your stupid big feet!"

"It's not nice to throw insults around at each other," said George, smiling, as he prodded the tip of Jessica's nose with his index finger. "You're meant to be cousins, right, not bitter enemies."

"Yeah! We need to join forces to defeat the witch," said Battler, grinning widely. "Together we'll be unbeatable! C'mon, George."

"Yeah, come on, Georgeeee."

"We want to go into the forest!"

"We wanna hunt the witch!"

"We wanna put her in a zoo!"

"I want to see Battler doing something brave for once!"

"Not for once- I've explored the forest _lots of times _by myself before," Battler lied. "I just thought I'd invite you guys along this time as well- but only if you think you can keep up with me! If you drag me down I'll have to send you back!"

"Whateverrrr," Jessica retorted, rolling her eyes. "You talk big, but I won't believe you're not scared until we actually get into the forest for real and start looking around."

"I think we should go right now!"

"We can't hurry off at the drop of a hat, the adults would get worried," said George. "And you're meant to be unpacking, Battler."

"We can go after I've unpacked!"

"I don't think so," said George, shaking his head. "Why don't we go to the beach instead? You could have a picnic; maybe see if any of the younger maids are free? You like playing with Berune and Asune, don't you? You can build sandcastles?"

Battler pouted. "Oh, so it's safe to play on the beach, where we might get washed away at sea or eaten by _sharks_, but we can't go explore in the forests? What'll happen? We might get attacked by some butterflies?"

"You can get lost in the forest. I don't want to seem like a 'boring old adult' or anything, and I want you guys to have fun, but you shouldn't go into the forest at all. It's bigger than you think," said George seriously, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "What if one of you got hurt? What if you got lost and it started to go dark? I hear there are some pretty sheer cliff edges around the edge of the island, too. Let's just go the beach, yes?"

Jessica and Battler both frowned. They clamoured around their older cousin, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket; blinking up at him earnestly.

"Oh, George, you're no fun!"

"Us cousins need to stick together!"

"We're gonna go explore whether you'll let us or not!"

"You can't stop us!"

"And if you tell our parents what we're planning then we'll never,_ ever_ talk to you again!" Jessica finished, putting her hands on her hips.

George had to admit, Jessica- despite her young age- did look very impressive when she did that. She must have been copying her mother; using the same cold tone of voice Natsuhi so frequently adopted when scolding the maids.

George looked between the wide, eager eyes of his cousins, suddenly feeling like the 'bad guy' in this situation- even though he only wanted to make sure they didn't get hurt.

George was meant to be the adult; he had to set a good example- he couldn't let them run off by themselves. It would make him look bad.

But Jessica and Battler weren't like normal children (or maybe, George thought amusedly, they were _exactly _like normal children, and he was the unusual, incredibly obedient one). When they wanted to do something they always became incredibly stubborn. Their headstrong determination only doubled when they were together. Although George was five years older than them, did he really have any powers to stop them?

George knew he could tell the adults about his predicament but he didn't want to bother them. Eva had told him they were having an important, long overdue discussion about Kinzo's wealth and things were going to get a little heated. They wouldn't want to be interrupted.

The servants were all busy preparing for dinner. George had been left to supervise Jessica and Battler by himself.

They weren't going to back down; George knew that. Nothing he could possibly say would make any difference.

But, if he went with them... at least he could stop them from wandering off the path too far or getting lost. It would be just like having a scenic walk, really; and if he brought a picnic with him, he could distract Battler and Jessica from their witch hunting plans with cookies or sandwiches.

That sounded like a plan.

"You know what," said George exhaustedly, "you two really are the biggest nuisances I've ever had to deal with."

Battler looked at Jessica.

Jessica looked at Battler.

Then, simultaneously, they both giggled and gave each other a high five.

They had _won_.

If they could wear down George like that, then taking on a witch would be easy!

* * *

><p><strong>an: **This chapter was fun to write :3 Lots of characters, yay~ I'm kind of sad I couldn't give Asumu many lines though, or introduce any of the other maids. They're so minor it doesn't matter but I like giving even the most unimportant of background characters a few lines once in a while, just to remind everyone they're still people and they're still bumbling around with their own lives in the background XD;

I'm not the only person who thinks that way when it comes to writing am I? o:

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	4. Chapter Three

**Still**** Doll****  
><strong>Chapter Three

* * *

><p>"Wow, it's really big in here!" said Battler in awe, looking at his surroundings.<p>

Perched on a tree branch, ham sandwich in hand, Battler was so amazed by the forest around him he'd actually (shock, horror!) forgotten to eat his lunch.

George hoped Battler didn't fall out of the tree and break a bone. That would be difficult to explain to his relatives.

"Well, _duh_. This whole island is virtually made up of forest- of course it's big," Jessica shot back. Her voice was unusually regal- almost exactly like her mother's. Jessica was such a tomboy it was always strange when she began to emulate Natsuhi like that, even if George did find it somewhat endearing. No matter what children said about their parents, it seemed they still admired them, in one way or another.

"I was only _sayin'_," Battler retorted. "Geez- women are impossible."

"That's sexist!"

"You don't even know what that means!"

"I-I... I..." Jessica scowled, annoyed that Battler had beaten her at something. "It doesn't matter! It's what Aunt Eva calls your dad every time he says something stupid!"

"Ihihi~ It's just a like a woman to talk about things she doesn't understand- riight, George?"

"You shouldn't make blanket statements like that, Battler, it's impolite and rarely correct."

"Eh? What're you talking about?"

"You don't know what George means?" Jessica rolled her eyes. "Wow, you're stupid."

"I'm not stupid! Tell her, George!"

"A-ah, well…"

George looked between his squabbling relatives nervously. With a weak, somewhat awkward laugh, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose; a nervous tic brought about not because his glasses needed adjusting (they had been just fine before), but because he was feeling a little lost for words, a little nervous, and a whole lot of _guilty_.

They shouldn't have been in the forest at all. True, they hadn't strayed too far off the path yet, and George could easily find his way back, but still... It was the principle of disobeying his parents, not to mention all the lies this would lead to (and the lies he'd already told), that made George feel so uneasy.

About half an hour earlier George had been in the kitchen preparing the picnic hamper for his 'expedition' in the forest alongside Berune. The blonde maid was only too happy to lend a helping hand whenever food was involved- though George strongly suspected this was less to do with the 'goodness in her heart' and more to do with her hopes she could sneak bits of food for herself when nobody was looking.

That girl had a serious _obsession_.

"So~" Berune had said, voice sing-song, as she wrapped up some cookies in Clingfilm and placed them in the basket, "are you going out with your cousins?"

George flushed slightly, all too aware their plans of 'going out' involved breaking every single rule his parents had set out- but he tried to swallow the lump in his throat and stop his fingers shaking before his nerves became obvious even to an airhead like Berune.

"Yes. That's right."

There was more rustling as the ham sandwiches were placed in the basket, with a tender love and care Berune never showed to any of her other chores. She was always more careful when it came to handling edibles.

"You going to the beach, then?"

"U-um... Yes," said George- trying not to wince at his stuttering. "That's the plan, ahaha. Jessica and Battler want to see who can build the biggest sandcastle."

George had hoped he wasn't laying it on too thick. Was he being too obvious?

Luckily, Berune didn't seem to notice; far too busy lost in her food induced fantasies.

Was she actually _drooling_?

"Aaah, I'm so jealous! It looks so bright and warm and sunny outside- I wanna go on the beach and eat cookies, too! Uwahh, it's so _unfair_!"

And that had been the end of that exchange. George was glad she hadn't seen through his lies (the older maids definitely would've done), but at the same time, he felt horribly guilty. Lying to a young woman like Berune was unforgivable. Of course, lying to Berune was no worse than lying to his parents, but George's annoying sense of chivalry had kicked in and he couldn't quite shake it off.

_Relax,__ Ushiromiya __George. __It's __not __like __you're __planning __to __throw __Jessica __and__ Battler __off __a __cliff __or __anything._

_You'll walk around in circles near the footpath until they get tired and then get back to the mansion in half an hour.  
><em>

_Simple._

Taking care of two constantly bickering children didn't seem all that 'simple', though. George's babysitting duties had given him a newfound respect for his aunts and uncles- especially Rosa, who was a single mother with a bad-tempered baby. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to be a parent.

Then again, given the only females who liked him were his relatives, it didn't look very likely he'd ever have any kids at all.

That was one problem sorted, then.

It was kind of depressing thinking about being alone forever and ever, though. What if he ended up like Kinzo, howling at the moon whilst drinking absinthe?

"George, George!" Jessica said sharply, tugging on George's jacket. Her fingers were sprinkled with cookie crumbs and they were rubbing off on his clothes. "Tell Battler he's stupid."

All things considered, it was probably a good thing Jessica had pulled George out of that rather maudlin train of thought.

"Ahaha..." An awkward laugh. "It's not polite to call anybody stupid, Jessica."

Jessica scowled.

Battler sniggered, finally remembering to take a bite out of his sandwich.

He finished it seconds.

* * *

><p>George sighed as he looked down at his watch. A shaft of light splintered through the leaves above to illuminate the clock's face.<p>

_Half__ past __two._

They'd been in the forest for an hour now. They still had ample time to return to the mansion, as the adults would (doubtlessly) still be busy discussing the distribution of Kinzo's gold when he died, but George still felt uncomfortable. He didn't want to push his luck- and he had been walking for such a long time he was unsure how long it would take to return to the mansion.

The picnic basket- empty, save for the balled up bits of Clingfilm and a few crumbs- was clutched in his hands, bumping against his thigh gently as he walked.

The leaves underfoot crunched ominously.

Despite the sunlight that played across the bright green leaves and the pleasant blue sky above, it was somewhat eerie in the forest. The wind seemed to be just a little colder than usual. George shuddered as it fanned through his hair.

Maybe that was just paranoia.

Jessica and Battler didn't care. They were soldiering on ahead of him energetic as ever.

"Ah, it's beginning to get a little late, isn't it?" said George, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Don't be silly, George!" Jessica scolded. "It's not even dark!"

"We have to stay here until it's dark anyways. Witches only come out at night."

"Yeah! Good idea! Maybe we could build a campfire and roast marshmallows when we wait for her!"

George frowned. He would have to put a stop to this dangerous talk right now.

"I'm afraid that is impossible. Your parents would be worried about you if you stayed here at night. Besides, it would be dangerous."

"Don't worry!" said Jessica. "If the witch comes I'll protect you!"

"I bet she's just some old lady in a big dress anyway- if she even exists at all."

"No, it's not the witch I'm worried about."

He looked down at his watch again.

Bit his lip.

_Twenty __to__ three._

How had this happened? How had the time passed by so quickly? And, worse than that, George wasn't exactly sure where they were. He knew the path back to the main mansion lay somewhere to his right, but he'd grown so distracted in checking his watch every five minutes he'd failed to keep a careful eye on where they were walking.

Letting Jessica and Battler lead had been a bad idea.

Hell, this whole trip had been a bad idea.

He really had to be more responsible.

"Alright, why don't we try walking this-"

But Battler cut him off before he could finish.

"Hey, Jessica! Let's have a race to that tree stump over there!"

"N-no, wait a minute, guys-"

"Alright!" said Jessica brightly, eyes blazing with determination. "Let's do it!"

George groaned as the two twelve year olds ran off at inhuman speeds, both on an adrenalin high that came hand in hand with hunting so-called 'witches', and both desperate to prove they were better than the other.

It was only to be expected something would go horribly wrong, really.

And go horribly wrong it did.

* * *

><p>"Jessica? Jessica, are you okay?"<p>

"O-owie o-owie oww..." Jessica whined pitifully, nursing her leg. She sniffed. "I-it really hurts..."

"Can you move your leg?"

"I... I-I dunno... I'll try..."

"No, it doesn't matter, don't force yourself!"

Jessica lay on the ground, dry leaves and twigs crunching under the deadweight of her tiny body as she nursed her leg. There was an ugly, dark black bruise blooming across the knee, and it looked a little similar to the blemishes that spread across the skin of decomposing apples. It was a good thing she hadn't broken her skin, but that mark surely didn't herald good news.

George bit his lower lip for the umpteenth time that day (miraculously, his lips hadn't started bleeding… yet). What was he going to say to Natsuhi and Krauss? He'd been in charge of taking care of Jessica, and now she'd hurt herself. It was all his fault.

He should have put his foot down- said 'no, we're not going into the forest.' Why was he such a pushover?

Damn it...

George had watched it happen almost in slow motion. One minute Jessica had been laughing cheerfully, chasing after Battler, and the next- well.

She hadn't seen the tree root until it was too late.

There were lots of dangers in the woods that were hidden out of view; gnarled roots, stinging nettles, poison oak, pot holes...

Sheer cliff faces.

If Jessica had somehow managed to stumble and fall off the side of the island, her brains would've been dashed out on the rocks below. A fall from that height meant instant death. Only a miracle would've saved her from a grisly fate like that. George knew the forests cut off with almost no warning because Rosa had warned him about it before. It had been a long while ago, when he was younger, but George had never forgotten the serious look on Rosa's face.

'_Don__'__t__ explore __too __much__ in __the __forest. __It__'__s__dangerous.__'_

Really, George was lucky Jessica had only tripped over a tree root, only had a bruise.

It could've been far, far worse.

And it had finally knocked some sense back into George.

They needed to get back to the mansion right now.

"Come on, Jessie, I'll help you up."

"T-thanks…"

Holding onto Jessica gently, as though she were a priceless antique (he didn't want to hurt her any more than she was already), George pulled her back to her feet. The young girl trembled slightly on wobbly legs, and her eyes narrowed with suppressed pain. Once, it looked like she was going to tumble over backwards once more, and George reached out to steady her, but she pushed his hands away.

She pouted. "I'm _fine_."

George smiled warmly. It looked like embarrassment was forcing Jessica to hide how much her leg really hurt. Those digs from Battler earlier about being a 'useless woman' might have been the cause of it.

Children were so resilient. It was kind of amazing.

"Alright then, I'll trust you," said George, ruffling Jessica's hair. This friendly gesture, Jessica did not push away. "If you need any help walking back you can always lean on me though, okay?"

Jessica looked up at George with wide, trusting eyes. Slowly, shyly she nodded.

"O-okay..."

"Hey, wait a second! We're going back?"

Jessica and George turned around to look at Battler, who was standing there with folded arms, eyes narrowed. George tried to suppress a sigh. It looked like this was going to take all his skills of negotiation. Battler could be such a stubborn kid at times- even worse than Jessica.

"Yes, we're going back. Jessica's hurt her leg- she might have sprained it. It would be unfair to make her keep going."

"What? You're going to go back just because you fell over?" Battler rolled his eyes. "You're so useless."

Jessica's eyes flared with anger. "I-I'm not useless! It's your own fault for pushing me!"

"I didn't push you- you fell over yourself!"

"Well, if you hadn't decided to do that stupid race I wouldn't have fallen over in the first place!"

"So it's _my_ fault you can't run in a straight line- is that it?"

"Hey, guys, please calm down...?"

"No! I thought we were going to explore the forest, see if we can find that witch Kumasawa's always talking about! Don't you want to have an adventure, Jessica?"

"It's not about having an adventure though, is it? You only wanted to go in the forest to prove you're _soo_strong and brave and _manly_- but, you know what? You're _not_! The witch doesn't even exist anyways- I was just following you 'cause I wanted to see you mess up everything and look stupid, like usual! Nyah!" And with that Jessica, stuck out her tongue.

"T-take it back!"

"No! It doesn't matter what you do, you'll still be a coward! _And_you pushed me!"

George looked between his warring cousins in alarm, unsure of what to do. He knew he had to silence them, get them to _stop_- but every attempt he made to come between the pair was met with more shouting, and even _more_vitriol. It felt like he was just making it worse.

In the end, he was much too late.

"_Fine_!" Battler's voice echoed ominously in the forest. "You want to go back home to your mom, Jessica, then that's alright, do whatever you want- but I'm not gonna do that! I'm going to keep on going because I'm _not_a coward, okay? I'll prove that I'm not!"

"B-battler, come back!"

But Battler was already running away, deeper and deeper into the forest.

George ran forwards, trying desperately to reach the small boy- and, really, it shouldn't have been that difficult for a teenager to outrun a twelve year old. However, it looked as though the forest had truly devoured Battler- just like a fairytale monster with sharp teeth. George couldn't find him anywhere, and he didn't want to stray too far, in case he lost sight of Jessica.

Battler had gone.

Vanished.

And there wasn't even a trail of breadcrumbs to lead him back to safety.

* * *

><p>"Stupid Jessica. Stupid, stupid..."<p>

With each repetition of 'stupid' Battler used the sharp stick in his hands to lash out at the trees and bushes that surrounded him. Leaves we re torn off, scattered to the floor; and when he reached the stump of a fallen tree covered in moss his stick made short work of the fluffy green plant life that clung to it.

"I'm not a coward, I'm seriously not... I'm sick of everybody saying that... Even my dad... T-there's nothing wrong with being scared of boats, damn it…"

Sniffing, Battler hastily rubbed his eyes with his free hand, trying to stave off tears.

How pathetic.

He wasn't some stupid kid; not anymore- he was twelve, and he'd be thirteen soon; a real teenager. He couldn't cry.

Not even when he was alone in the forest, unsure of where he was or how to get back.

Battler didn't know how long he'd been walking, but his legs ached and his feet were rubbing against the inside of his slightly too-small shoes. He might have gotten blisters. It was difficult for Battler to find shoes that fit him given how hugely disproportionate his feet were; 'a sign you'll be getting a growth spurt soon!~' Asumu had always said cheerfully. Rudolf, meanwhile, chuckled and made lurid comments about 'people with big feet...', causing Asumu to pinch him for being childish.

Battler missed the playful banter of his parents.

He missed George.

He even missed Jessica.

Maybe... he shouldn't have shouted at her like that. She was only upset because she hurt her leg.

Battler knew, after he'd had time to think about it, that he'd acted childishly. When he'd hit the tree stump with the stick, he hadn't really been angry with Jessica- not at all.

He'd been angry with himself.

What was he thinking, running off into the forest by himself? It he got lost or fell off the side of a cliff it wouldn't prove he was brave at all- instead, it'd just prove he was an idiot. Jessica called him that enough already; he didn't want to prove it for her with concrete evidence.

What was that nonsense about hunting witches, anyway? They didn't exist.

This was pointless.

A waste of time.

Battler had been trying for some time to return to path that led back to the family mansion, but he didn't know where it was. Everywhere looked the same; all the trees were practically identical. He'd passed the same stump at least seven times; the fat, squat stump that had been stripped of moss by his stick. A circle of deadly-looking mushrooms grew about it. They looked poisonous, and were crippled slightly under their own weight, tops too heavy.

Wasn't there a story about circles of mushrooms? Battler could vaguely remember Rosa telling it to him- she'd always known a lot about fairytales.

_They're magical protection from witches. If you see a circle of mushrooms in the forest and it's getting dark, you should stand in that circle and wait until the morning comes. That way, the witch can use whatever magic she likes- even turning into a single butterfly if it takes her fancy- and you will be safe and warm in your circle._

_Teehee~ Who knew mushrooms were that useful, huh?  
><em>

Battler's breathing increased. His heart hammering so strongly it felt like it was knocking against his ribs.

He didn't believe in witches, of course he didn't, but... well... It really _was_ very cold in the forest, and the wind tugging insistently at his hair. When it ghosted across the nape of his neck it felt just a little like icy-cold fingers, straight from the morgue, were trying to pull him into a sickening parody of a loving embrace.

_Come here, little child~ I'll help you, I promise… Ufufufu…_

The wind howled mournfully through the trees. It sounded like a low, sad cry; the voice of a young girl who'd lost her way in the forest and never escaped.

Maybe she'd been trapped.

Trapped by the witch of Kumasawa's stories.

The trees seemed to press in closer to Battler. Their clawed branches reached out to ensnare him, tugging at his clothes and hair in an insistent, almost demonic manner. Meanwhile, thick coils of gnarled roots jutted up from the ground, trying to trip him.

They looked like fingers.

Skeletal hands rising from a muddy, shallow grave.

There was laughter in the air; a cold, high laugh, that resonating with the wailing of that lost little girl.

It was getting dark.

__If you see a circle of mushrooms in the forest and it's getting dark, you should stand in that circle and wait until the morning comes. __

_That way the witch can't hurt you._

Battler sniffed. Was it... true...? Could there possibly be a witch...?

He wouldn't have believed in it during the morning but now, as the leaves filtered out the light from above and a cold wind brought goose bumps to his flesh, the idea of a woman in a long dress with a penchant for child murder seemed more and more believable.

_Ufufufu~_

_Did__ you__ get __lost, __little __child?__ There there, it'll be okay~ I'll make it all stop with my magic, I promise..._

_And I don't break my promises._

Battler shuddered.

His fingers gripped even tighter around his trusty stick, knuckles turning white, as the callous wood bit into his soft flesh.

His eyes narrowed.

No.

He… he wasn't scared.

He didn't come into the forest to get scared.

He came into the forest to prove he _didn__'__t _get scared- and, damn it, the wind blowing through the tress wouldn't change that!

"There isn't a witch- I absolutely refuse to believe in a witch! You can't fool me, damn ittttt!"

Maybe he'd gone a little mad from fear- mad from the desire to prove himself; and, at the back of his mind, Battler thought, _oh__ no, __I'm__ gonna__ turn __out __like __grandpa_. Was insanity hereditary? But, at that moment, he was too busy trying to push away these stupid, childish fears that had begun to overtake him.

He raised the stick in the air as a brave knight brandished a sword or spear, and smashed it against a tree covered in ivy hanging beside him.

_Clang!_

"A-ah..."

The stick- Battler's trusty sword- had snapped clean in two.

Battler stared at the tree in alarm, holding the severed end of the stick, heart beating in his chest. Some of the ivy had been pulled away by his violent attack, revealing… well.

It didn't look very much like a tree.

Battler reached forwards, filled with a mix of curiosity and fear. He dropped the stick to the ground, leaves crunching as they were crushed crushing, rustling feebly in protest. Trembling, Battler's fingers pushed at the heavy curtains of ivy. He picked at it slowly at first, fearful some horrible jump-scare monster would leap out underneath the heavy green curtains of ivy. But that never happened.

Swallowing his panic, Battler began to take great handfuls of the ivy, now; tearing it away in strips, even though it left moisture behind on the palms of his hands and he had to wipe them on his pants.

He had to keep going.

What was underneath all the green foliage?

It… definitely wasn't a tree… the ivy had been wrapped around.

Battler's eyes widened.

His breath caught in his throat.

Trees didn't go 'clang' when you hit them.

But iron fences did.


	5. Chapter Four

**Still**** Doll****  
><strong>Chapter Four

* * *

><p>When Battler first realized the fence was, indeed, a fence, he immediately thought he had somehow managed to make his way back to the main mansion. It was not a completely unreasonable assumption. Battler knew there was an iron fence that ran around the garden at the fore of the mansion, and he also knew that fence existed to separate the garden from the forest on the other side. Kinzo hadn't wanted his beautiful display of flowers to become tangled or ensnared by the tall trees, weeds and suspicious-looking toadstools that grew in the woods.<p>

The safety of his family when they were little kids might also have had something to do with it... Kinzo _probably_ hadn't wanted young Rosa or Rudolf blundering off into the woods or getting lost.

The key word being 'probably'.

Battler's aunts and uncles, and Rudolf, too, still spoke in a strangely reverent way about Kinzo, as though they were still afraid of him- and Battler had heard stories from Jessica about how harshly he spoke to her, and even how he hit her with a wooden sword 'on my ass, Battler! My maidenly, innocent ass!'

Battler always laughed at those stories- but he couldn't deny, whenever he saw Grandfather's impractical cape swishing down the corridor, he felt himself seize up with panic, too.

Nobody, save Nanjo, Genji and Kumasawa, spoke about Kinzo like he was a human.

They always made him sound like a demon.

Maybe it was unfair… but Battler couldn't help but wonder if Grandfather cared about his family at all. It seemed far more likely that fence in the garden was for the safety of the flowers, not his children.

Kinzo seemed to care more for the flowers than his kids, anyway.

Well, Battler knew his dad was really annoying, but Aunt Eva and Aunt Rosa and Uncle Krauss were nice enough. They even gave him pocket money! They weren't_that_ bad.

But that was beside the point.

Given Battler knew the fence existed around the main mansion, it was only sensible to assume he'd reached the garden at an awkward angle. He wasn't sure how he'd done it, given he'd been wondering around in circles aimlessly, but he decided not to question his good fortune.

What was the saying his mother had told him? Never look a gift horse in the mouth?

Battler wasn't sure what a 'gift horse' was, or if it was a real animal at all. He'd first heard his mother use that phrase when he was five, and he had instantly assumed that a 'gift horse' was some kind of dangerous equine that attacked people if they stared at its monstrous jaws too for too long. Now he was older (a whole twelve years old!) and he still didn't know for sure, but he was 99% sure 'gift horse' was just a weird turn of phrase and not a real creature.

It seemed like a smart saying to apply to his current situation, anyway, so it didn't matter what it actually meant.

Who cared how he'd gotten back to the main mansion? The fact remained that he _had_, and that was all that mattered.

Or, at least... he _thought_he had.

For a few happy moments.

Battler walked around the perimeter of the wrought iron fence for some while, searching for the front entrance. It had to be there somewhere, right? The fence round the main mansion wasn't _that_big.

At least... it shouldn't have been.

And yet, inexplicably... it _was._

The fence was soon swallowed up once more by overgrown moss and ivy, but Battler used another stick to keep prodding at the mess of green beside him. When it gave a clear ringing sound, it let him know he was still by the fence.

It was a good thing sticks were a common resource in the forest, given his last one had snapped in two.

Battler wasn't sure how long he'd been walking, exactly, but it felt like a very, very long time. His natural impatience, coupled with his strong desire to get back to the mansion, and the pain in his feet from all the walking, made every single second drag out into an eternity. It was getting dark, he was cold, he was hungry, he didn't want to upset George or make his parents angry, and still- no matter how much he walked- the fence did not end.

The wind continued to tug at his hair, wailing through the trees. It sounded sad.

Why... did it sound so sad?

The leaves under his feet crunched ominously with every step he took.

The stick began to feel heavy in his hands.

The bright, warm hope that Battler had once experienced now began to shrivel up inside his heart, until it felt like it had never been there to begin with.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the fence that surrounded the rose garden after all...?

_No._

Battler bit his lower lip; tried to force his oncoming misery away with pain.

_No.__ Don't __think __things __like __that._

If he started to worry or panic he'd do something stupid, maybe miss something important, and then he'd never be able to get back to the main mansion. There had to be some way to get through the fence. Battler knew fences, typically, were meant to keep people out, but they weren't perfect. There had to be a gate somewhere, or maybe...

Battler stopped.

Then...

He smiled.

There had to be a gate, but, failing that... a gap in the fence was just fine.

* * *

><p>Beatrice sat demurely under the arbor, a small splash of white in the middle of the green, green garden. Everything about her was eerily pale, as though she had been cut out from a sheet of paper, or her skin and hair had been bleached by the moonlight.<p>

She was wearing one of her prim, pretty summer dresses, and it didn't have any sleeves. That was fine for sitting outside at midday, when the sun was high in the sky and warm, but it was very impractical to wear it throughout the day.

It was almost evening by now; at least five o'clock. She didn't know the time for certain, but she had read about 400 pages of her book sat outside, and that must have been about 4 or 5 hours.

It had been a very, very warm day, but that warmth had dissipated somewhat, leaving the small child just as cold as the cup of barely-sipped tea resting on the table by her hand.

It was no great loss. The tea tasted terrible, anyway. The servants who usually cared for her, Kumasawa and Genji, were unable to see her during the time of the family conference, so she had to look after herself. That was easier said than done. She wasn't very good at doing housework, and even making a cup of tea was out of her realms of expertise.

That was the problem with being a lonely tower princess with servants to wait on her. She was incapable of doing anything herself.

Maybe Kumasawa and Genji were especially kind to her because they sympathized with her lonely, miserable life- but their kindness had only made her even more dependant; just like a baby chick, newly hatched. She couldn't leave the mansion because she had no life skills, no social skills... she didn't have _anything_. Even the clothes on her back and the books she liked to read weren't really hers'. She had never been to a shop before and exchanged money for anything- though the whole process sounded about as mystical to her as journeying to a far off land or slaying a dragon. Everything she owned had been given to her by somebody else.

Even her name had been stolen from the witch.

The only thing that was really hers' was the skin on her back, the eyes in her head, and the bones in her body.

She had nothing else.

_Nothing._

She was so lonely... and lost... and _useless._

The wind whistled ominously through the trees that surrounded her prison. She swore she could hear the witch's voice in the wind, cackling at her.

_Aww,__ poor__ thing. __Poor, __poor, __pathetic__ creature._

_What's__ the__ point__ in__ being__ alive __at__ all?_

_Nobody __would __miss __you __if __you __suddenly __disappeared.__ Hardly anybody knows you're even alive, hahaha~_

Her hands clenched at her sides, and her eyes- empty and emotionless, save the band of blue iris in the middle just like a marble- began to fill with tears. Those tears were a sensation she was very familiar with. She cried so much it was a wonder she hadn't drowned.

But the tears came greater and faster when she by herself.

The presence of Genji and Kumasawa always made her feel... sort of special.

Wanted.

They were her parent figures- and when they were by her side, Genji with his serious face and Kumasawa with her bright smiles, plaiting her hair and making her apple pies, she could fool herself into thinking she was a real human for just a few moments.

When they weren't there, she had nothing.

She _was_ nothing.

She had read somewhere that people weren't meant to be alone. They had to have others around them or they would become miserable. She had read... that it took two people to create a universe.

And she, without a real family and without a real name, wasn't sure if she even counted as one whole person by herself.

She could only sit there in the cold, trembling. The disgusting cup of concealed, cold tea she'd blistered her inexperienced, clumsy fingers to make sat on the table by her hand. Her book, which she had long since grown tired with (she had read it twice before) lay to one side.

She sat there, completely alone and friendless in the world… and listened.

Listened to the witch laughing inside her head.

She couldn't move.

She couldn't even begin to see the point in moving.

Maybe she would continue to sit there forever and ever, just like a ball-jointed doll.

She would sit and wait until summer changed to autumn, and the leaves fell off the trees, and from autumn to winter, when the earth would become icy and the water hard... and maybe, just maybe, if she sat outside in her sleeveless summer dress long enough, she would become icy as well. Maybe her insides would freeze, and her blood would become hard and cold, and her lips would turn blue as the veins in her wrists, and she would die from exposure.

Maybe it would be better... if she died...

Because nobody cared.

She wasn't aware of when she fell asleep- but she supposed she must have been dozing, because she was awoken by fingers shaking her shoulders ever so gently.

W-wait, what...?

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

Somebody... was shaking her?

But Kumasawa and Genji would be at the main mansion, surely? So would Nanjo. They were the only people who knew where she was, much less that she existed... so it was impossible that somebody was shaking her.

This encounter was certainly impossible.

And that meant only one thing.

Maybe this was a dream, too.

A dream brought about by loneliness and desperation.

Blinking, the young girl turned her head. It felt heavy, and it ached, as though her brains had been removed and rocks had been sewn up inside her skull instead. She had never felt pain like that in a dream before. Usually, when she slept, she dreamt of princes and white horses and she wore long, pretty skirts and had blonde hair, just like the witch from the portrait. She never dreamt she was under the arbor, in the garden, surrounded by her beautiful prison cell.

Why would you want to dream about things that made you miserable?

In that sense, her waking life was akin to a nightmare, and her sleep was the only place where she could find solace.

Pitiful child that she was.

"H-hey... u-um, Miss...? I'm, um... sorry to wake you..."

That anxious voice was what finally drew her out of her stupor, more so than the shaking, or the rose garden, or the wind playing through her hair- or even the continued, derisive cackling inside her head.

It was a boy.

There was... a boy standing by her side... and he was talking to her.

She had never seen him before.

He must have been about her age; barely a teenager, or maybe slightly younger. He was wearing a rather expensive looking suit that didn't fit him. It hung awkwardly about him, too small in the legs and too long in the arms, so the end result made him look ridiculous. The suit was white, and it was stained with very attractive marks of dirt and mud. His messy red hair that stuck up from his scalp at any and all angles, and small twigs and leaves were mixed up in all those disordered spikes.

Beatrice had never seen a person looking so disordered and rumpled before. The people who waited on her were always very neat, very proper- and they took great pains to ensure she was, too. Despite her arthritis, Kumasawa would dutifully brush her hair most every single day, and lace up her shoes, and button her dress, and ensure her socks were both perfectly just-so.

Beatrice could do all that for herself, of course… but Kumasawa never let her.

Maybe it was an act of sympathy.

But, to Beatrice, it only made her feel even more helpless. A pretty, life-size doll in her own house… but she couldn't do anything for herself.

It wasn't this boy's appearance that made the young girl startle, however.

It was his _eyes._

They were light blue.

They were so bright... and warm...

They made her feel warm, too.

Her pale cheeks flushed light pink.

T-this couldn't have been real, right? A person like this would never come and talk to her. So... It was a happy dream. It was just another fantasy about a prince carrying her away; although this one was slightly different to the rest. This time, her hair wasn't blonde, and she was still wearing her old summer dress, and her rescuer didn't have a horse.

But… it must have been a dream, all the same.

It would have been cruel trying to fool herself into thinking otherwise, only to have her hopes dashed- as they surely would be. It had happened before.

She pinched herself sharply on the arm and waited as the pain spread through her nerves. She waited for the boy's warm eyes and small smile to melt away, just like throwing a rock at an image on a pond. She waited for him to ripple, fragment, distort and disperse, just like golden butterflies.

She waited for her own eyes to open once more, and loneliness to assault her once more.

But... that never happened.

He didn't disappear.

He... was real...?

Now, her amazement slowly gave way to fear. She had never met any humans in her life other than Kumasawa, Genji and Nanjo. T-this was a stranger... and she had no idea what they were like; or even if they were a kind person. What if they weren't a prince, but... a demon?

Shyly, she blinked up at the unknown person with wide eyes.

Her whole body trembled.

"E-excuse me, but... ... w-who are you?"

They both asked it at the same time.


	6. Chapter Five

**Still**** Doll****  
><strong>Chapter Five

* * *

><p>"So, are you <em>sure<em> you're not a witch?"

Beatrice flinched slightly at this question. She looked down at her lap, fingers picking at the white material of her flimsy, fluttery skirts. Was she a witch...? She didn't think she was. If that was true, surely she would have been able to use fearsome magic to escape from this prison. Maybe she would have liked to be a witch, if it meant she could leave Rokkenjima on the air as golden butterflies and never come back.

But she couldn't.

She'd tried.

Escaping was... impossible...

Especially for a weak-willed girl like her.

She was far too pathetic to be a witch.

She couldn't be a princess, either, because nobody wanted to rescue her.

She was hardly even a real person.

People's personalities were defined by their interaction with others; she was sure she had read that somewhere before. How could she, who only ever interacted with three people in her whole life, possibly have developed a real personality? She'd never had a chance.

So... who was she?

Fortunately, the young boy answered his own question.

"Ihihi. Well, I guess you can't be a witch. You're too pretty. Heheh..."

Beatrice tipped her head to one side. It was a heavy, awkward movement, as though she didn't have perfect control of her limbs. Maybe her body really had frozen over after all. She was calcifying; turning into a doll- an eerie guingol with a far-too human face.

She wasn't very good at interacting with people, so every single one of her actions was weighted, deliberate and unnatural. It was an effort even doing this much.

It was effort just opening her mouth.

But she couldn't run away.

This was the first time she had interacted with somebody who existed beyond her prison, besides Nanjo, Genji and Kumasawa. She couldn't let this chance slip through her fingers, just because of the butterflies fluttering uncomfortably in her stomach and the rapid beating of her heart.

She had never spoken to another person her age before. She had almost begun to believe children were a myth, just like pixies and fairies. To Beatrice, this boy was almost as magical as a dryad or a kirin, and she couldn't help but be enthralled by him.

She had to swallow her shyness, which threatened to close up her throat forever, and at least _try_ to talk to him.

Ushiromiya Battler.

She'd never forgive herself if she didn't.

If a human encountered a fairy, they would surely feel the same. Such an encounter would be a miracle, even more unlikely than adding one and one to make three. This human might hesitate from surprise and disbelief upon encountering such a fantastical creature- but they would force themselves to try and capture its' attention.

They would want to talk to them.

But, of course, they would talk very softly, for fear of scaring them away.

Beatrice, too, spoke to Battler very, very quietly, as though afraid he would vanish at any moment.

She didn't know what to say. She wasn't well-versed in conversation. So, feeling horribly embarrassed and inadequate, she could only repeat what he had previously said.

"You... t-think I'm pretty...?"

"Ahahaha, well...!" Battler laughed nervously (was he feeling as awkward as she was?), scratching his cheek with one finger. "I-I mean, um... Y-you're not pretty; well, ahhh- you are, but... Witches are usually drawn with big noses and warts and you're not like that, and, um... I-I'm not a pervert, okay? I don't care what Jessica says, I-I'm not; I hardly even know what that word means!"

"Oh... okay..."

"Ihihi. Don't worry about it too much- I don't even know what I'm saying. I'm just surprised, so I'm babbling... Aaah, Jessica would punch me if she was here."

"Who is Jessica?"

"My cousin. She's a girl, but she's taller than me, and she always beats me up."

Beatrice's eyes widened slightly. She had never been hit before in her whole life, so she could hardly imagine how much that would hurt. The idea frightened her.

Battler, sensing Beatrice's discomfort, offered her a small smile.

"Hey, don't worry. I'm not like my scary cousin. I'm really nice, and I don't hit people; especially not girls like you. If Jessica ever threatens you, I'll definitely protect you!"

Battler wasn't really sure what he was saying. He was just trying to show off. A normal person wouldn't have taken words like that to heart.

However, Beatrice wasn't a 'normal person'... so she couldn't help but feel incredibly flattered by his affections.

Nobody had ever told her they would 'protect' her before.

Could it be...?

Did he... really want to save her...?

Beatrice clearly saw an image in her head (she'd always had an over-active imagination. It was the only thing that kept her company, besides Kumasawa). She was cowering before a hideous dragon called 'Jessica', and Battler was charging towards that monster, sword in hand.

It... i-it sounded pretty cool... ...

"Aah, it's a pain, though. It would've been awesome if you were a witch," he said. "Then, I could've boasted to my cousins, and they'd think I was really amazing, ihihi~"

Beatrice hung her head, eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry..."

"Hn? What for?"

"For disappointing you... because I'm not a witch."

"Huh?" Battler blinked in confusion. "I was just joking. Are you... seriously worried about that?"

She nodded.

Battler stared at her.

To be truthful, he was glad he hadn't found a witch, because he honestly had no idea how to defeat them. Cut off the head and stuff it with garlic? Wasn't that vampires? Um, to kill witches, didn't they throw them in ponds or burn them? Battler knew you could make a fire by rubbing sticks together, and there were a _lot_ of sticks in the forest, but he'd never be able to light a fire on time before the witch got him.

He was far happier being with this girl- even if she was almost as incredible as a witch herself. She was so pale and ghostly, sat under the arbor in her own garden of roses, by her mansion that was an almost perfect double of the main mansion, but scaled down considerably. Battler could hardly believe she was a human at all, with her mechanical movements and stilted manner of speech that didn't suit a twelve year old. But she must have been a human.

She hadn't tried to curse him yet, so that was conclusive proof she wasn't an evil demon.

Battler doubted, just by looking at her fragile form, that she'd be capable of squashing a fly, let alone a human being.

Battler wasn't sure who she was, or what she was doing on Rokkenjima... but he was sure her blood was red, just like his. And no, he didn't want to slice open her wrist to prove it. He was content, for now, to sit by her side and talk to her.

"But..." she continued quietly, "I think I was named after a witch."

"Oh?"

Battler would be lying if he said he hadn't already noticed; but he had no idea Beatrice herself knew of the connections of her name.

'Beatrice'.

That was the name of the woman who roamed the forest of Rokkenjima. They had his grandfather had borrowed all of his money from her, and it was she who had helped the Ushiromiya eagle fly off into the distance.

That was a rather romantic interpretation of events Battler had learnt from his mother, Asumu, who had a penchant of spinning pretty fairytales- and Battler had always viewed it as such.

A fairytale.

Surely this girl couldn't have been _that_Beatrice. For a start, everything about her was wrong. The Beatrice everybody spoke of was a woman; an elegant lady. She must've been, to have so much gold. This girl was only about Battler's age. It was impossible to believe she could ever have amassed tons upon tons of gold. And didn't they say Beatrice, the Golden Witch, had golden hair, which matched her name? This Beatrice's hair was almost white.

"I don't think you're a witch," said Battler definitively, arms folded. "I mean, you don't look like a Beatrice."

"I... don't think I'm a Beatrice either," Beatrice said, sounding quite lost and confused; voice tremulous, whole body shivering. "But... it's my name. And it's what people call me. But... I... I-I... I don't want to be called that. B-because I'm not a witch..."

She hung her head, eyelids fluttering shut, fingers clenching into fists, as she poured her little heart out- words spilling from her lips in a torrent.

But, just because she was sharing her feelings, it didn't mean she thought Battler would understand. Their situations were very different, surely. Her name had been stolen from the witch. It didn't belong to her- she didn't deserve a grand name like that.

But Battler's name only belonged to him. Beatrice had never heard of anybody else being called Battler; not in any of her fairytales, or any of tales Kumasawa had told her. Battler was free to be himself. He wasn't chained to a stolen title like she was.

So... she didn't think he would reach out.

She didn't think he would take her hand.

And she certainly didn't think he would say- confusion evident on his face, but voice firm and resolute, "Hey. Don't cry. You're not the only one who hates your name."

"H-huh...?"

Beatrice looked up in surprise, cheeks flushing light pink, as his fingers squeezed her.

S-she... had never been this close to somebody before...

Her hot tears continued to trickle slowly down her cold cheeks. She couldn't move her hands to wipe them away. She had frozen.

"Yeah," Battler continued, smiling comfortingly, "I _hate_my name. All the kids at school tease me because of it. They say it sounds weird. 'Battler' isn't a normal Japanese name, so I just stand out and look like a weirdo! Aaah, I hate my old man for calling me 'Battler'- he's totally at the top of my 'to kill' list!"

"Y-you mean... other people hate their names too...?"

"'Course they do. Compared to 'Battler'- which isn't even a real _Western_name, I _checked_- 'Beatrice' is really pretty. You have a nice name! I think it suits you. And more than one person can be called 'Beatrice'." Battler smiled at the look of wide-eyed surprise on Beato's face. "There are, like, three kids called Keiichi in my grade at school. It's normal for names to be used more than once. Maybe not with 'Beatrice' in Japan, but I bet, if you went to England or Italy, you'd find lotsa people with that name- not just the witch on Rokkenjima! If she wants to say Rokkenjima's hers' that's really greedy, but it'd be even worse if she tried to say the name 'Beatrice' belonged to her! You can't put copyright on somethin' like that!"

"Copyright...?"

"Um, I'm not sure, ihihi- but my dad was talking about it. He runs a big company. He uses words like that," said Battler, shrugging. "Buuuut I'm the only 'Battler'. Bleh." Battler stuck out his tongue. "It's such a pain, being this 'special'... Ihihi..."

Beatrice continued to stare at Battler in surprise; now unable to blink. Her tears had stopped, but her cheeks were still wet. With a small sniff, she wiped the moisture off her cheeks with her hand.

She... had never thought of it like that before.

Names didn't define a person.

Just because the witch of Rokkenjima was called 'Beatrice', that didn't mean she had to become a witch, too.

It felt a little like a light bulb had suddenly turned itself on inside her head.

Maybe you would call that light 'hope'.

Battler... had given her _hope_.

"It's fine if you still hate your name, though," said Battler, in tones far more mature than those he used with Jessica.

When he was with Jessica he liked to joke around and pull her hair and tease her- but Beatrice was different. She wasn't a rough kind of girl who'd climb trees and return his insults with even meaner ones or physical blows. Battler couldn't make fun of a girl like her.

He only wanted to make her smile.

In his slightly simplistic, twelve-year-old view of life, the world was much more fun when everybody was smiling. But, even if his opinion was simplistic, it didn't change the fact he truly wanted this girl to be happy.

"Most people at school misread the characters in my name as 'Sento', so I let them call me that. People don't tease me as much if they think my name's 'Sento'. So, although 'Sento' and 'Battler' are the same person, I can go by two different names! If you hate being called 'Beatrice', why don't you just give yourself a new name?"

"A... new name...?"

"Sure. That makes sense, right? If you hate something, try and change it so you do like it. Is there any way to read the characters in 'Beatrice' so it sounds like another name?"

"I don't know, I never thought to check. U-um..." Beatrice's face flushed light pink, as she looked up nervously under her eyelashes at Battler. His wide smile was so infectious it made her own lips twitch, too, even though she had felt so hollow and empty just seconds before. "I-is it really alright... to change my name?"

"Sure. As long as you're happy, I don't think anything else matters!"

"Happiness...? U-um, I've... never really felt that... s-so I don't know."

"Well, that's no good!"

"No good?"

"Nope! I'll have to change that! I want to see a smile on that gloomy face!"

Beatrice prodded her lips with her fingers. They twitched slightly- but she quickly felt self-conscious (she only ever tried to smile alone, in front of mirrors), and it quickly fell from her face. It seemed, no matter how Battler tried to comfort her, she couldn't smile freely after all. I-it was... too difficult. I-it was too embarrassing.

Battler sighed; but he was still smiling. "Well, I guess you were half-way there."

Beatrice's face set with determination. Eyes narrowed, she said firmly, "I will... try."

"Ihihi~ Good!"

Smiling, Battler gave Beatrice an enthusiastic thumbs up. Slowly, awkwardly, Beatrice returned it- and Battler started to laugh.

He sat by her side idly for a few minutes more, talking nineteen to the dozen about anything and everything; mostly about his cousins, and his family, and the servants, and how delicious the chef's food was...

And, at the mention of food, his eyes widened.

He'd been so engrossed talking to Beatrice he'd completely forgotten he needed to be back at the main mansion for dinner.

It was getting dark now, and Battler wasn't sure he'd be able to find his way back on time. If he didn't get back to the main mansion, what would happen to him? His mom and dad would scold him... or, worse yet, they'd scold George for letting him wander off, even though it wasn't George's fault.

Guilt welled up inside Battler's chest.

Even though he was only twelve, he had a strong sense of honor, and he didn't want to let George get in trouble.

But he wanted to stay and talk to Beatrice some more, too. He wanted to know more about her. Why was she locked up on the island like a bird in a cage? Had she been on Rokkenjima all her life? Who was she, and why was she named after Beatrice?

Maybe asking wouldn't help. She didn't seem to know herself.

Most importantly of all, she looked so lost and lonely- and he still hadn't seen her smile properly. He was sure, if he kept talking to her, he'd be able to bring a real smile to her lips. That had become his new mission.

But it would have to wait for later.

He simply couldn't sit in this fairytale garden, under the marble arbor, anymore.

"I'm sorry, Beatrice," he said apologetically, getting to his feet. "I need to go back now."

Beatrice's eyes became downcast, and she bit her lower lip- but, ultimately, she didn't do anything. She couldn't. All she could do was nod her head, resigned to her fate she couldn't change.

She was sure he wouldn't come back.

No.

It would be selfish to expect he would.

After all, he was so bright, just like a star- and she was a lonely asteroid, floating around in space by itself. She didn't deserve to have her pitiful form illuminated by somebody like him.

She still didn't know who she was.

Battler hadn't liked his name, so he used a new one- but she was sure she couldn't do the same.

After all, she wasn't even human.

But Battler's voice cut through her sadness like a knife through butter. He was still smiling.

"Hey... Don't be sad. I'll come back, okay? I promise."

"Y-you... you will...?"

"Mmhmm. After all, I like talking to you!" Battler grinned a gap-toothed grin; giving Beatrice a small salute. "So make sure you've thought up a brand new name next time I come, okay? I want to know what to call my brand new friend."

Friend...?

W-was she really...?

Even when Battler left, the seed of warmth that had sprouted in her heart didn't. It continued to grow.

She had never felt so happy.

* * *

><p>It took her a while to think of a new name- but she was resolute that she would, because now a title seemed to matter. Names only mattered if you had other people in your life to define you by them; but hadn't he said he would come back? He said he was her friend. So... now, for the first time in her life, she felt like she had a right to have a name.<p>

She was becoming a human.

Lying in bed, dressed in her nightgown and listening to the falling rain outside her dark window, she clutched a pad of paper to her chest and thought. She tried to rearrange the characters that made up 'Beatrice', but she couldn't think of any suitable combinations she liked.

That was when she had turned to books; all of her own favorites. She had read extensively, given there was little else to do, so her reading comprehension was very high for her age.

It took her a few hours, but she finally found a name she liked.

Dante's _Divine Comedy._

Bernard of Clairvaux.

_Clair_.

The one who lead Dante to Beatrice- and if she thought about it, the name also related to that pale hair and ghostly complexion she had hated so much. 'Clair de lune'.

Moonlight.

'Clair' still had a connection with 'Beatrice', just as 'Sento' was a different reading of 'Battler'- but she no longer had to be tied down by the title of that witch. With a new name, she could become a real person.

She... would call herself Clair.

She didn't need to be a 'Beatrice' anymore.

Meanwhile, the witch of Rokkenjima howled furiously; rain splattering violently against the ground, wind howling through the trees- but Clair paid it no heed.

She was nestled up under her blankets in her safe, warm, bed- separated from the storm by the glass windowpanes.

A faint light still burnt inside her heart, like a flickering candle.

The witch could not hurt her now.


End file.
